In high school you've got jocks, geeks, stoners, prom queens, fat kids,
and so on and so forth. The working world is no different.
You've got "Chads" (the good-looking hot shots that always get their
way), geeks (IT dept.), lazy overweight managers (the fat kids grown
up), office queens (the hotties everyone wants to bang), pranksters,
gossips, and so on and so forth.
What am I, you ask?
Why, I'm the Office Farter. It's a pleasure to meet you.
My body (more specifically, my ass) has the
unfortunate characteristic
of spewing gas every minute of every day of my existence. I think
my ass has an extra set of lungs and/or a rocket propulsion
system. As 8~9 hours of my day are spent at work, this adds up to
a significant volatile volume. Over the years I've gotten quite
good at soundless issuance. I have over a 98% silent emission
system.
Publicly confessing my troubles has proven therapeutic, so I propose
the following meditations upon my predicament:
Herman Miller was a genius for inventing the mesh-upholstered
chair as it has a built-in exhaust system. Herman Miller is my
soul mate.
Why is it that someone inevitably has to talk to me the second I
"bloom & emit?" 2 incidents stand out in my memory.
Both women. As they approached me to talk, their normally stolid
expression was instantaneously transfigured as they entered the
cloud. I could map the expanding border demarcation and
acceleration of the invisible brown fog based on this. They did
their damnedest to cover up what was so obviously on their minds,
bodies,
and olfactory nerves, but to no avail. The unconsciousness of
gestures and facial expressions broadcast the truth in full HD.
The primary reason I work in IT is to have access to the server
room. With its loud whirring server fans, and hard-core air
filtration/conditioning systems, they're the perfect location to
release post-lunch worries. I actually wanted to be a doctor, but
my digestive system had other plans.
Only those closest to me know of the real degree of my
circumstances. I once farted so long and loud in front of a best
friend that he said he worried I "would blast-off into space."
Yes, it's that bad.
I'm likely eligible for a "Guinness Book of World Records"
commendation. Gotta look into that.
Yes, I've tried Beano. It works, but constipates the crap
out of me. What do I want--a life of gas, or a life of
constipation? I choose gas.
I've heard that gas is a sign of a healthy gut. Mine must
be REALLY healthy.
My grandfather was in the same boat. He used to
unflinchingly fart while holding a conversation with you. I've
adopted the same habit, and I'm not even in my 40s.
Some people can burp on queue. I can fart on queue. I
wonder if this skill is marketable.
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